"
"My dear Lydia," put in Mr. Rogers, impatiently, "the man's claim
must be absurd. Why, the island is right in the tropics!"
"You wouldn't have thought it a bit absurd if you had heard him,"
retorted Miss Belcher. "He appeared to be quite sure of his ground.
Very pleasant about it, too, he was; said that few visitors ever
honoured his out-of-the way home, but that as soon as any arrived he
always made it a matter of--of punctilio (yes, that was the word) to
put off and bid them welcome. He spoke with the slightest possible
foreign accent, but used admirable English: and, I don't know why,"
wound up Miss Belcher, ingenuously, "but he seemed to divine from the
first that I was an Englishwoman."
"And it wasn't as if we had come here flaunting British colours,"
added Plinny.
"But what sort of man was he?" asked the Captain.
"Height, six foot two or three in his stockings; age, about sixty;
face, clean shaven and fleshy; the features extraordinarily powerful;
hair, jet black, and dyed (if at all) by a process that would make
his fortune if he sold the secret; clothes, black alpaca and well
cut, with silk stockings that would be cheap at two guineas, and
shoes with gold buckles on 'em. I couldn't take my eyes off--no
display about 'em--and yet I doubt if King Louis of France over wore
the like before they cut his head off.
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